


Far Too Young To Die

by narvaeztrash



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Rape, Raywood centric, a lot of these characters are mentioned/not really in it much, sads, the rape/abuse stuff happens in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narvaeztrash/pseuds/narvaeztrash
Summary: The words fell from your lipsSo gracefully, so calmlyLike a piano song,Haunting and sweetI couldn’t help but listen,MesmerizedBy the dance in front of my eyesSlowly I too began to danceSmiling, laughing,Right by your sideBoth of us manipulatedBy the things we thinkAre beautifulThese words,Deep down I know they are liesBut for now, I shall listen to their melodyAnd dance along with you.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thisiswhatmylifehasbecome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisiswhatmylifehasbecome/gifts).



Darkness had only fallen a few hours ago, yet Joel was could have sworn on numerous things it was early morning by this point. He sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes furiously as he gazed unfocusedly at the paperwork before him. It was unusual for Joel to sit and work for some many hours at a time – often the man lost his concentration within an hour or two of beginning his paperwork. 

It’s been weeks now. Weeks since Ray and Ryan left. Weeks since they were supposed to return. The job they had taken on was a simple, two- or three-days with a day for travel, and yet they hadn’t been heard from in weeks. At this point, Joel was beyond worried about the pair. At first, it had been great for the man – no more couples’ arguments to break up for a week or so. But by the third week, he was getting nervous. No word had come in from the two for days, and despite his hopes Joel couldn’t help assume the worst had happened. He’d tried using work as a way to escape his concern, taking more on from Burns than he’d ever been known to do previously. Despite getting through work faster, which impressed Burns, the feeling was accompanied by a large amount of concern for the younger man. He was fully aware of Ray and Ryan’s situation of more or less disappearing for the past three or so weeks, and he could easily associate Joel’s sudden increase in productivity. 

Joel just sat there, eyes fixed on the paper before him, completely oblivious to his employer entering and stopping before his desk. It was only when Burns cleared his throat that Joel snapped out of reverie, looking up to meet the unreadable expression of his boss. “Oh, uh, hey, Burns.” he stammered, forcing himself to smile weakly up at the older man.

“Hello, Joel. I’ve got word from Ray.” he stated simply, his expression never changing. Joel perked up almost instantly at his words, eyes widening as he sat up straight.

“Where are they? Are they okay? What took them so long?”

“Apparently the job wasn’t as simple as we all thought. Ryan also had to go and sort something out elsewhere, and Ray gathered intel on the gang before they took them out. Ryan’s side job took longer than Ray expected, and then the gang themselves were a little more well-prepared than I’d first been made to believe,” he paused, frowning slightly before meeting Joel’s eyes again. “But Ray says they’ll both be back soon, probably tomorrow or the day after, and I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to see you.” 

“Oh, fuck, good.” Joel murmured, more to himself than Burns, visibly relaxing. “So they’ll be back tomorrow?” he asked eagerly, straightening up again. 

“Yes. According to Ray, neither of them are badly injured – Ryan’s got a few superficial wounds, but nothing we’re gonna need Caleb to look at, and Ray’s practically uninjured.” 

“That’s…that’s good.”

“Of course it is. And maybe now you’ll calm down for five minutes, Joel. You’ve been on a hair trigger for weeks now, and it’s beginning to put everyone you go near off. Gavin says you managed to spill coffee all over yourself and him this morning, and despite the fact you’re an idiot, you’re not normally clumsy.”

“Yeah, that was…that was an accident.” Joel muttered, stifling a small laugh at the memory. “Look, I’m just…you said it was a short job. When they didn’t show up after a few weeks, it seemed odd. I guess I just went straight to the worst case scenario,” he paused, smirking slightly at his boss, “and anyway, the thing with Gavin this morning was funny. That kid makes the most inhuman noises I’ve ever heard.” 

“Whatever, Heyman. Just get that work done, yeah? I’m gonna need that pretty soon.”

“You get it boss.”   
-  
True to their word, Ray and Ryan arrived back at RT two days after Burns and Joel had spoken. The two had gone straight to Burns for debriefing before being cornered by Joel, his expression one of the desperate relief. “You two are the worst! Do you have any idea how worried I was?” the man exclaimed the second he’d got the pair alone, wrapping his arms protectively around Ray’s waist.

“Listen, man, I wanted to get back too. Motel beds are shitty.” Ray joked, leaning against the taller man. Joel could almost taste the waves of pure hatred pouring off of Ryan.

“Yeah, well, you could have at least sent word to me or Burns, or anyone, for that matter! I thought you died!”

“Not my problem. I didn’t die, in case you haven’t realised.” the Puerto Rican responded, smirking slightly up at Joel. Ryan barely resisted the urge to yank Ray out of Joel’s arm. 

“No shit. Even if you’re not dead, you took forever; long enough to convince me you were actually dead.” Joel retorted, pinching the bridge of his nose “Ryan – what the fuck was this side job you went on? I don’t remember that being part of the brief.”

“Things happen.” Ryan answered simply, glaring intently at Joel’s arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to go off after something else when ‘things happen’ and you’re on a job.”

“Not my fault. I can’t decide when I’m needed.”

“What even were these ‘things’?”

“Nothing important. It’s sorted now – you haven’t got any reason to be concerned.” Ryan snapped, pulling Ray away from the other man. “Anyway, we need to unpack, don’t we, Ray? And you told me you wanted to sleep.”

“I always want to sleep. What’s new there? Lemme talk to Joel for a bit.” the lad whined, clutching onto Joel as though his life depended on it. Joel couldn’t help but smile – he’d always loved Ray, since the day he’d met the tiny sniper. This came much to Ryan’s annoyance, as it was clear Ray felt equally as strongly towards the other man. 

“It’s fine, Ryan, honestly. No bother to me. I’ll bring him back to your room later, yeah?” Joel offered, forcing himself not to smirk triumphantly at the other man. It was well known that Ryan and Joel had never been on the greatest terms – both of them loved Ray, and neither of them would back off the lad. Ryan may be his actual boyfriend, but that had never stopped Joel from relentlessly flirting with the brunet, or spending as much time as possible with him, whether or not Ryan was around. Needless to say, Ryan was constantly pissed off by the older man, and aimed to avoid him as much as possible. Ray just found the whole thing hilarious.

“Fine. Bring him back later. But don’t leave it too late, yeah. I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know Ray’s bedtime is at eight. I’ll have him back, don’t worry.” Joel teased, earning himself a half-hearted punch from Ray and an icy glare from Ryan. Decent turnout, he supposed. With that, he turned away, grabbing Ray’s hand and pulling him along behind him.   
-  
“So you’re saying you actually did work while we were gone? Holy shit, Joel, it’s a Christmas miracle!” 

“Christmas was months ago, you asshole.”

“When’s Burns’ birthday? Is it too early to be his birthday present?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Not my fault you get paid to not do work.” Ray complained, crossing his legs underneath himself as he dissected Joel’s stapler, littering the desk and carpet around him with sharp pieces of metal. “When was the last time you actually did anything, not including all the shit you actually did while we were gone?”

“I do work all the time. I just don’t talk about it, because there’s more to life than whining about my job.” the other responded, carefully picking up the staples and placing them a short distance away from Ray before sitting back in his chair. “Unlike some people I know.”

“Shady. I’m heartbroken.” Ray retorted, a small smirk spreading across his face. “Hi, I’m Joel, and I say no shade but I’m basically a parasol.”

“Fuck off, you little bitch.”

“Make me. You’re the one who dragged my ass here.”

“I just can’t win with you, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck you.” Joel rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair and focusing on the small lad perched on his desk. “So what was this little detour Ryan went on, hm? You were gone for longer than anyone expected.”

“That? I don’t really know. He didn’t give me any specific details – said it was something to do with a past job, and he’d need a few days. I wasn’t bothered. You know I work well alone, and it was just a week or so that he was gone.” 

“He didn’t tell you? Doesn’t that seem just a little bit weird?”

“Eh, I’m used to it. Ryan’s cryptic at the best of times. And I trust him. He wouldn’t fuck off and leave me out on a limb.”

“He better not. I’d go and find him, you know. Make sure he pays for fucking you around.”

“Chill out, Joel, I just said he wouldn’t do that. I’ve worked with Rye for years – he’s no traitor.”

“Yeah, well…you can never know people too well.”

“Whatever. Shouldn’t I be heading to Ryan soon anyway? He’ll get all bitchy if I’m back super late.” Ray murmured, yawning and stretching his arms. “Plus I’m getting sleepy. Spending so long with an insomniac who can’t walk around in the dark for shit means you don’t get much sleep.”

“I suppose I should probably take you back,” Joel resigned, slipping out of his chair and ruffling Ray’s hair. “I’ll see you soon, though, right? You won’t let Ryan steal you away from me for months on end?”

“’Course I won’t. He’ll probably have to go out on some solo work soon, and you’ll see a shit ton of me.” the brunet promised, stretching up to gently kiss Joel’s jawline before hopping down from the desk. “I’ll probably come and see you tomorrow, if I get out of bed.”

“Fair enough. I doubt I’ll see you for a few days, then, if it’s down to whether or not you’re getting out of bed.” 

“That’s…that’s true. I’ll see you next week. Maybe.”

Joel simply laughed as Ray left. Part of him wanted to run after Ray, drag him back and keep him with him that night, but he knew he could never do that. Ray was happy with Ryan, and despite his ability to make it so they’d never see each other, Joel would never split them up. He’d prefer to see Ray happy, and if he was happy with Ryan, so be it. 

But it’d never stop Joel loving Ray.


	2. two.

Weeks passed slowly at RT when there were no good jobs going, Ray thought. He often slept a lot after returning from weeks away, and nobody would bother him. But after a few weeks of doing little but sleep and eat and smoke, Ray would soon find himself pining for the thrill; the surge of adrenaline; the high only heists and missions could give him. Often he’d drag Ryan down to Burns’ office and beg for something to do, flicking through the potential job offers until he found one that looked like a good time. Sure, he’d work with other people at RT, but everyone knew Ray would always seek out Ryan before he asked anyone else. Ray liked it that way anyway. Ryan would rarely refuse to work with him, and Ray enjoyed the jealous glares Ryan gave his partner when he did go with someone else. 

It was coming towards the end of that homecoming period now, and Ray was beginning to find himself bored with constantly waiting around. He was perched on the end of Ryan’s bed, playing with the zip on his hoodie, staring off into space.

“Ray? You’re up early.”

“Yeah.”

“Is something wrong? You’ve been quiet since last night.”

“I mean, I was unconscious for several hours, but yeah. Guess I’ve been pretty quiet. Aren’t you used to that?”

“I mean quieter than usual, Ray. Something’s bothering you.”

“I’m just bored. You know I hate waiting around.” Ray muttered, refusing to look round at the man behind him. Ryan sat up, shuffling down the bed to wrap his arms lightly around Ray’s waist. The smaller man visibly relaxed, leaning back against his boyfriend. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not really. Might have got an hour or so. Didn’t really feel like I needed it.”

“Yeah, but you’re wrong. You do.”

“If I needed it, I’d sleep.”

“That’s a fuckin’ lie.” the Puerto Rican retorted, wriggling out of Ryan’s arms and slipping off the end of the bed. “Sleep, you stupid asshole.” 

“First of all, I’m not a stupid asshole. Secondly, I don’t need any sleep, Ray. I’ll be fine after I’ve had three cups of coffee.”

“No normal human needs three fuckin’ cups of coffee to get up in a morning.”

“They do. Have you seen how much Red Bull Gavin goes through?” 

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me _Gavin_ is a normal human.”

“Yes, I am.” the older replied, resting his head on Ray’s shoulder. “I don’t need any more sleep. You know I run on very little practically all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s good for you.” Ray huffed, struggling out of Ryan’s arms and slipping off the bed. “Sleep, or I’ll get Caleb to drug you to sleep. You need it.”

“Fuck you, Ray. It’s not exactly easy for me to sleep just like that, but fine. I’ll try, just _please_ don’t get Caleb. I can do without him trying to shove pills down my throat.” 

“If you at least try to sleep, I won’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sleep well, princess.”  
-  
For somebody who could sleep or just stay in one place for so many hours, one would not think Ray was easily bored. But without other company, the lad often found himself reading over old work or rummaging through his – or on some occasions, Ryan’s – stuff. He called it spring cleaning, even though he was pretty certain he’d never done it in spring.

With Ryan asleep and the handful of other people he talked to at RT busy or away, Ray found himself in their office, flicking through folders and files of all description – some his, some Ryan’s, some he didn’t know how the hell they even got here – and some of them were immensely interesting. Ryan did a lot of work with other employers before the pair met, and reading the information he’d collected was fairly amusing, in Ray’s opinion. He’d been sent on some god-awful jobs, and some of the mugshots in the files were frankly _hysterical_. He enjoyed reading Ryan’s old work more than his own, because he’d been there on the jobs he’d been given, but Ryan’s were something different – something new, something he’d never experienced in real life. 

Around two hours passed. Ray did nothing but sit and read.

It was coming up to the end of the third hour when Ray found a different looking folder to all the others. Most of Ryan’s had transparent covers, as he rarely took paperwork with him – he preferred to put together his information in the safety of his shared office (with Ray, of course). The folder Ray had found had a jet-black cover, and it was heavy; much heavier than the others littered around the room. At first, Ray almost passed over it. It probably wasn’t Ryan’s. Joel had a habit of using darker coloured folders (because they look smarter, he’d once told Ray), and he’d probably left it in their office last time he visited. But it seemed unlike the folders he’d often see lining the walls in Joel’s office. No, this one was bigger, heavier…all the more intriguing, Ray thought.

And so he put it to one side, intending to look through it later, because this was either going to be the most interesting case he’d ever read over, or the shittiest, most mind-numbingly dull crap he’d ever read. He was hedging his bets on it being the former.

Another few hours passed before Ray called it a day. Picking up the mysterious folder from earlier and tucking it carefully under his arm, he retreated back to the quiet comfort of his own room. He’d decided to leave Ryan alone in the hope that he’d be sleeping, and long ago decided his bed was far more comfortable, therefore choosing his room as his place of preference. He avoided the folder for a short while – it almost didn’t seem right to read it, as though it contained some secret Ray should never find out. He procrastinated – fucking about on his DS, making a feeble attempt to tidy his room in the slightest, finding the most comfortable way to hang upside down off the end of his bed; the list goes on. 

It was around midnight, if he recalled rightly, that he finally settled down to look through the folder. He’d managed to distract himself for a few hours, make his room just the slightest bit tidier, and run his DS battery out. 

Now curled up again, the lad finally pulled the folder into his lap. He ran his fingertips across the dark leather cover, worn with use and probably constant battering, looking at the particularly worn corners. It was definitely old – probably two or three years, from how it looked – and Ray thought that made it all the more interesting. He flicked through the first few pages in little detail, barely taking into account the black and white faces that stared up at him, unblinking. He wanted the details on the case, and they’d be in here somewhere – they had to be, nobody keeps a case study and doesn’t include the actually objective of the case. When he hit the back cover, however, he was becoming less hopeful. 

Turning back to the front of the folder, looking through it in more detail may pull up more answers, Ray figured. And so he went through the folder again, glancing at fading handwritten notes and some details, paying little attention to the people within the folder. He cared little for the people involved – the cases were all old, and the people were all dead, so what was the point in reading over their details. When Ray came up empty-handed a second time, his confusion peaked. _Who the fuck keeps a folder on the job they’re doing with actually putting the job objective in the folder?_

Ray lifted his glasses to rub his eyes furiously, yawning. Now it’ll be Ryan on his ass all day when he doesn’t wake up until 2pm. Stretching, he glanced back down at the folder. He frowned slightly as his gaze landed on the faded picture in the corner of the page – the face was familiar, the smile was familiar, he knew this person…

Joel. 

He felt sick. Heart pounding, he flicked through the other pages, paying more attention to the names and faces. Burnie Burns. Geoff Ramsey. Gavin Free. Joel Heyman. Lindsay Tuggey. The list went on. It was the last two pages, however, that scared Ray the most. Written across the top of the page, in the handwriting he would always recognise as Ryan’s, was his name. And underneath it, a photo, and all his details – name, date of birth, nationality, weapon proficiency – it was all there.

He flicked through again, mind racing as he traced the handwriting on the pencil notes, begging it not to be that of Ryan’s. Over and over, he read through page after page of Ryan’s notes on every single person at RT – even those who worked overseas for Burns. And all of it, every last page, was Ryan’s handwriting, messy and barely legible in places. He was in a rush when he wrote some of this, quite clearly, and that makes Ray wonder just how long this has been going on. The folder was old and worn, which most likely meant he’d been working on this for months, if not years. The file is detailed; every page has individual notes made on it, some with more than others, and a sickening amount on his own two pages. The fact Ryan needed two pages on him and only him made him feel even worse. 

The real question Ray had, though, was why. Why would Ryan gather all this information on the people he’d lived among for the last three or so years? Who was he working for – who wanted all this information? Burns had a lot of enemies, and if one of them had got hold of Ryan and offered him a high enough price, it seemed almost plausible. But Ryan – the Ryan that Ray knew was no traitor. He was loyal, protective…he would never turn on those closest to him, Ray knew this. He had no reason to – nobody had done anything to him, as far as Ray could recall, and surely somebody would have caught on earlier. With people as perceptive as Gavin around here, it seemed almost impossible for him to have not been noticed analysing their speech and movements. Why would he leave such an important document in their office? It seemed laughable, really; that Ryan would be stupid enough to do something as dumb as that. 

But it was when Ray turned to the first few pages of the folder again and spotted a small, almost invisible stamp in the corner of one of the pages. It was faded, again with age. It takes Ray a few moments and a lot of squinting to make out the words on the stamp. He doubted himself at first, blaming it on the low light and the tiredness of his eyes. But he reads it as FBI, and he reads the name below it as James Haywood. 

Haywood. That’s Ryan’s surname. But he’s not called James. Ray almost breathes a sigh of relief, but it occurs to him it would make no sense for him to give them his real name if he was truly a member of the FBI, and he was planning to collect data on them all. It all fit together – the weeks Ryan would disappear for, likely to bring back the latest bits of information to the FBI, playing it off as “work overseas”. It all made sense now, really, and Ray was mad at himself for being so fucking blind. They’d all been fucked over, lied to, manipulated, and by one of the people they called their own. Ray hadn’t had much experience with moles, being part of the Mafia prior to working alongside Ryan, but he knew just how devastating the impacts of their work could be on group and organisations. It made him realise just how little he knew, just how insignificant his knowledge of the criminal underground really was.

They’d been played for fools, and Ryan was the one behind it.


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowwwwwwwww i didn't forget about this i just. haven't had the motivation to write anything for ages so here my short offerings of sads

It wasn’t uncommon for Ryan to spend whole days simply waiting. He’d set up a spot and remain there, stock still, keeping his eyes trained on his target. He’d gotten accustomed to spending hours upon hours, sometimes even days scoping out targets. He was no fool – jumping in with little knowledge would, in most cases, likely get you killed within minutes, especially with the targets Ryan often dealt with. And so he was careful, because he had no reason to get himself killed. After all, it’s not like he had a suicide wish. 

Spending all day crouched beside a large chimney did become rather tiring though, and as the sun began to bleed red into the sky, he straightened and stretched. Today had not been the most enlightening – he had garnered little new intel regarding his current target, and really he had been here this whole time for no good reason. But Ryan was never one to get angry at the fact he had found nothing. Patience is a virtue Ryan found himself lucky to have, and this meant he rarely became annoyed at spending days watching with little to show for it. After all, he had only been given this job a few weeks ago. The case was still fresh. 

Looking away from the streets below, the blonde man turned to begin packing away the rifle he’d brought with him – one of Ray’s lesser used, of course. He often brought one of Ray’s weapons with him, almost like an unspoken promise of return. Ray’s rifles were also far superior to any he owned, likely because it was uncommon for him to choose it as a weapon of choice, but that wasn’t really the reason why Ryan would raid his boyfriend’s collection of long-distance weaponry. It was the sentimental value, Ryan told himself – the feeling of Ray’s presence, despite the fact he was nowhere near. _Almost like a ghost._

Ryan wasted no time packing his rifle back into its’ case and scaling his way back down the building he’d chosen to watch from. The sky was begin to fade now, dusk setting in at a rapid speed as returned to his car, slowly, watching the sun fully set on the horizon. Despite being the central hub for underground crime, Los Santos was an incredibly beautiful city, anybody could see that. Probably one that could rival New York, Ryan reasoned. The city’s skyline was particularly impressive – reflective glass skyscrapers reaching into the sky; tall, grey buildings marring the dusky sky; commercial buildings of all heights, sloping down and soaring up among the many other buildings visible. It was something that would always confuse Ryan. People chose to locate valuable businesses here, even though the chances of getting robbed were most likely higher in Los Santos than any other city in the whole of America. Why take the risk? Shaking his head, Ryan loaded his case into the backseat of his car before climbing into the driver’s seat himself. 

Because people will take risks to get what they wanted, he supposed. Even with the high risks that came from living in Los Santos, it was a beautiful city – it was almost unfortunate that it was swarming with gangs and mercenaries like himself. He could see why people were drawn to the city; accommodation and office space was often extremely cheap, as well as cheaper labour than in other states. Actually, it probably made a lot more sense that Ryan had initially realised. Most of the people working in business cared more about money, and spending less of it on labour and accommodation was probably a preference. After all, money makes the world go round. Apparently.

He drove in silence, watching the dusky lilac sky fade to a deep purple, indigo, blue-black, black. Minutes melted into hours as he drove and drove, his attention solely on the road. It was serene – Ryan was completely alone with his thoughts, more so than ever, and that was how he liked it.

-

Ray had already known about Ryan’s absence. Ryan was a favourite of Burns’ for longer solo jobs, and he’d spend the day simply scoping out his targets and the surrounding area. Ray would know – he’d come along and been insanely bored the entire time, hence refusing to join his partner again for those kinds of jobs. Sure, he could wait, but Ray didn’t have the patience Ryan did. He couldn’t sit for those long hours and just wait. Do nothing but wait in silence. That wasn’t how Ray worked, and it was fine, because Ray had his own methods that worked perfectly fine.

He’d taken the file with him back to the room they shared, placing it on the desk whilst he laid on the bed and fucked around on his DS for hours. He wasn’t really playing anything – just flicking between several of his games, getting bored, and repeating. Anger was still boiling red-hot in his chest as he waited for Ryan to return, words forming in his mind as he repeated to himself over and over the monologue he would perform for the man – adding new parts, cutting parts that sounded dumb or stupid, tossing and turning words over in his mind as his anger built. 

Hours passed before Ray finally heard footsteps approaching his room. He half expected Joel or Gavin to enter – it wasn’t rare for either of them to come and visit him when they had a spare moment and Ryan was elsewhere. But no – it was Ryan, or _James_ , maybe – who opened the door and walked in, smiling as though nothing was wrong.

“Hey, Ray. How are you?”

“Me? I’m just _great_.” Ray seethed, forcing himself to smile at the taller man. “How was your job?” he managed to spit out, forcing himself to keep the venom in his voice checked.

“The job? You’d say it was boring. Nothing happened today. Learnt a little about one of the people working for him. That’s ‘bout it.” he paused, tilting his head to one side to study Ray’s face. “Something bothering you? You look angry, babe?”

“Angry? Nah. That’s Michael.”

“We all know you’re capable of rage that could probably match Michael.”

“I doubt that.”

“I don’t know, I think you could.” the blonde countered, setting down his case at the end of the bed. “Where do you want this?”

“Don’t care. Burns left some stuff for you. It’s on the desk.”

“He did? Weird. He doesn’t usually give me more than one solo job at a time.”

“Yeah, well. You should check it out.” the shorter man responded, narrowing his eyes as Ryan turned his back to look at the contents of the desk. He saw Ryan stiffen before he spoke again:

“Ray?”

“Yo.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Get what?”

“You know what.”

“Yeah. I do. You’re a filthy traitor, Haywood.”

“Ray, that’s not-“

“Oh, here we go. You’re gonna fuckin’ tell me it’s not what it looks like, huh? ‘Cause lemme tell you, I ain’t taking that shit. I’m not a fucking idiot. You’re a liar and a traitor. I had a good mind to take this straight to Joel and Burns, let them deal with you, but I think you deserve shit from me first. What the fuck, man? Is this all I ever meant to you? A fucking job for the FBI?”

“Ray, no. That’s not why I’m with you, I love you, it’s…it’s difficult, okay? Please, don’t tell Joel and-“

“Why shouldn’t I?! You’re lying to all of us, Ryan, and you fucking know it. Don’t try to pretend you’re not. I should have fucking known you weren’t genuine from day one. Fuck, why did I trust you?”

“I don’t know, because you were desperate to get out of that hellhole they call the Mafia?”

“Considering this, I wish I’d stayed. ‘Least they don’t turn on their own members.”

“I didn’t turn on anyone.”

“Really? Don’t think we’re the FBI, dipshit.”

“That’s not what I-“

“Is it not? Then fucking explain yourself, and don’t give me all the “I didn’t mean it, this is all a misunderstanding, I don’t even know who the FBI are” bullshit. I don’t wanna hear any more excuses and lies. Give it to me straight, asshole.”

“You know what? I will. You’re nothing, Ray,” the taller man began, narrowing his eyes. “You were perfect. Broken down little bitch, gave me an inside look on how the Mafia worked before I managed to convince you to join Burns. You’d have done _anything_ for me after I saved you all those years ago. The FBI wanted to tear this place to the ground for years now. Having me here just helped us get all the inside information we need to put that plan into action. You’re just a part of that plan, Ray.”

“So you never loved me?”

“Never.”

“Fine.” the Puerto Rican snapped, pushing himself up off the bed and shoving Ryan aside to pick up the folder. “I’m sure Joel and Burns will enjoy this contents of this.”

“Don’t you dare, Narvaez.”

“What are you gonna do? Kill me? That wouldn’t be wise.”

“I could make your death look like suicide, and we both know that.”

“If you got chance to kill me, that is.” Ray retorted, scowling at the taller man. “I’m done.” were his final words as he turned and broke into a sprint, throwing open the door and pelting towards Joel’s office.

Ryan remained fixed to the spot, almost too shocked to consider moving. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not supposed to happen. Ray should never have found out – hell, _nobody_ should have ever have found out about the whole FBI business. The events played over and over in his head, and each time they began again Ryan’s horror grew as he recounted his words, the shock, hurt, pure _betrayal_ on Ray’s face as he stood and listened Ryan’s monologue – most of which, in retrospect, he would take back if he could.

He was fucked. Deeply, truly, utterly fucked.


End file.
